Audrey
by tombombadillo
Summary: She lets the colour of the wings burn bright into her eyes before she eventually finds sleep. (Character death in Chapter 10) (Complete with alternate ending as an epilogue)
1. Chapter 1

**It's my birthday and you can't kill me on my birthday OKAY. Yeah, I'm pretty sure this came from watching too much Greys, but eh. So shoot me.**

**Disclaimer: I am so full of cake right now I think I might explode.**

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At the age of eight, Audrey Katherine Castle understands that there was a baby growing in her mother's tummy. She understands that one day her mother and her father will go to hospital and they'd come back and she will have a baby brother. And that was okay. When the baby is older she'd be able to teach him all kinds of things, like how to get to the cookie jar without anybody finding out, or what time they can go and wake mommy and daddy up in the morning. She could boss him around all she liked because she was older than him, just like mommy and daddy are older than her. She looks forward to it, talks to the bump like her parents do. She even gets to feel the baby kick and it makes her laugh and so giddy and excited that her father picks her up and swings her around.

When they do have to go to the hospital the goodbyes are rushed, a fleeting kiss to the crown of her head and a promise they'll phone when they have news. Martha keeps her distracted, lets her stay up way past her bedtime and enthrals her with stories of theatrics and drama and her father's childhood antics that she has heard so much of but never been told (apparently this was under strict instructions from her mother). It's not until the hands on the clock are almost at twelve and one does the phone ring. Audrey is half asleep on the sofa, her mind numbed by the animated film on the screen that Martha somehow managed to put up by herself, and she struggles up out of the doze to lean over the back of the sofa.

She doesn't miss the agonising curve of her back, the blanch of her white knuckles against the black counter top and the sharp intake of breath. She can't make out the other end of the conversation, can hardly work out Martha's hushed voice, but she does catch the words _sleep, swelling _and _support. _None of it makes sense, and when Martha ushers her to bed she doesn't mention the baby, or her father or her mother. There's no bed time story, just a watery smile in the darkness and a shaky kiss to her forehead. She doesn't forget the night light, a string of butterflies on the wall opposite her bed, stays for a couple of seconds to look at them. Audrey knows the new baby has a string of trains on his wall, colourful engines with pure white smoke drifting up into the sky.

She lets the colour of the wings burn bright into her eyes before she eventually finds sleep.

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The next morning it's still just Martha and her. The house is too quiet, there's no quiet swearing which she pretends she doesn't hear when daddy burns his fingers, no laughed scolding when mommy pushes him away and takes over. It's happy and together and it's their morning, but this. This is quiet and dreary and the loft looks dark and gloomy and severely lacking in life and pulse and anything resembling life, even with the bright summer sunshine streaming through outside. There's a bowl of soggy cereal waiting for her on the dining room table and she eats it without complaint because Martha looks like she's been up all night crying and she looks exhausted. She dresses without question, brushes her teeth like she was taught and curls up on the sofa with a book, devouring the words like she can just fall through the pages and find herself in the land of Wonderland where she can run around with Alice, the Mad Hatter and Cheshire the Cat. Daddy always says that's one of the things that she's inherited from her mother, that ability to completely lose herself in a book so that she can forget about the world outside the binding. And she tries, she does. But every time she turns a page it just takes her back to that phone call and reminds her of that fact her family isn't here.

Lunch is a hurried ham sandwich and then she's bundled into the back of a taxi with Martha. She spends the time kneeling on the seat and watching the streets go past, the sidewalks littered with people in shorts and t-shirts and sunglasses. If Daddy was here he'd be telling her all about how he's an alien, she's a secret agent and that family is a secret government experiment planning on taking over the world with robots. And he does it so she almost believes him. Mommy joins in sometimes, adds the details that he missed, or completely disputes his theory and makes it so they're an astronaut home on leave from Jupiter. She'd try and engage Martha, but the older woman is staring forlornly out of the window her fist curled against her jaw and she looks so sad and heartbroken that Audrey is loathe to disturb her.

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The hospital is large and scary and white and full of people with solemn faces. Martha guides her through corridors that all look the same, past people in uniform and wheelchairs, and people sat on chairs with their heads in their hands. It's scary and sad and she wants to tell everyone to cheer up and be happy because surely life is not that bad. She doesn't like this place. It sucks the life out of everything, leaves you like an empty shell. She can almost feel the lethargy tugging at her limbs as they walk further and further. She almost thinks their lost, opens her mouth to question Martha about their location, but then she sees her father. He's sitting on a bench, looking pale and thin and shaky and she runs up to him, clambers up onto his knee and wraps her arms around his neck.

He hugs back harder than she thinks she's ever been hugged, and she starts to think that her ribs are going to break but then he lets go, his arms loose around her. He smells of something indefinable and she's not sure she likes it, but if she buries her head against the warm skin of his neck she can just about make out the smell of what her mother said were almonds. He's speaking over her shoulder to Martha but she doesn't listen, she's just happy to see him again.

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"He keeps looking at me."

"He knows who his big sister is." Castle replies, leaning over the other side of the cot, "Smart little kid already."

"What's his name?" Audrey asks, reaching into the cot and letting the baby boy wrap a fist around her finger.

Castle hesitates, strokes a large finger down his sons cheek. "I don't know. We haven't thought about it."

Audrey watches the baby carefully for a few more moments, categorising the way his attention shifts to whoever it that's talking, a careful flick of his dark eyes. She wants to ask about Mommy. She wants to know what Martha meant when she was talking about sleep, and support and swelling. But the way her father is holding himself up, the rigid set of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw, she knows he doesn't want to talk. Not yet.

She asks Martha though. When Daddy has made excuses about coffee or needing to use the facilities she sits next to Martha at the side of the cot.

"Is Mommy tired?"

"What do you mean?"

"Yesterday you said she was sleeping. And I can't see her, and Daddy won't talk about her, or take me to see her. Is she asleep?"

"Sort of. It's… hard to explain." Audrey waits her out, looking at her until Martha looks away uncomfortable. "I don't think I'm the person to tell you this, Audrey."

"Daddy won't tell me."

"Have you asked him?"

"I don't want to. He looks sad. I don't want to make him sad. This place is too sad. I don't like it."

Martha wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls into an awkward one armed hug. "I don't like them either. But it'll be okay. Everything will be… okay."

She hates that she's thinking it, but Audrey is not sure she believes her.


	2. Chapter 2

At the age of nine, Audrey thinks she has a better handling and understanding of death – or at least the idea of death – than most people even twice her age. Not that her mother is dead, of course. Her father is very adamant about the fact that her mother is _not_ dead. No, every time she asks it's always Mommy's sleeping, she's tired. Except Mommy's been tired for the past year, too tired for birthdays and Christmas and Thanksgiving. Every holiday has been spent in that hospital room, watching her mother sleep. Nobody talks. It's quiet, apart from when the Baby cries. The Baby who still doesn't have a name because her father won't name without mommy. Audrey thinks the baby will never have a name. If you asked her how she knows, she'd be unable to tell you why. A feeling in her gut. The monotonous way her mother's chest rises and falls, the harsh intrusive sound of the machines, there's nothing natural about it. Nothing natural about the way she just lies there, pale and unmoving and so unlike her mother… no, Audrey knows her mother has gone. She just wishes that her father would see that too.

When the baby is a year and a half old, Audrey decides he needs a name. He's not really much of a baby any more, waddling around on his fat legs. There's a book of baby names on a shelf in her Daddy's office, used when he's stuck for characters names, but it's high up and she almost falls off the chair while trying to reach it. She spends the whole of one night looking through them, compiling a list of her favourite names and ends up pulling them out of a hat. Healy. Irish origin, means ingenious. Good. It suits him. He's going to grow up to be good and strong and clever and intelligent. She tells her father his new name, and although she wasn't entirely sure what his reaction would be, but when he screams at her and tells her she has no night to make those kind of choices, especially that particular choice, not without him, not without her mother. Healy starts crying, and her father's attention is diverted away from her, bends down to pick him up. So, Audrey runs.

She runs to the hospital, hot and sweaty and dirty. Really, she shouldn't be here. Visiting hours are long gone, and she's probably carrying all sorts of germs in, but the nurses and the doctors are nice, and they like her. Pity her. And as long as she sits quietly and does as she's told, then really what's the harm? It's where her father finds her, maybe an hour later, Healy in his arms. He puts Healy on the bed where he happily sits with a fluffy giraffe with plastic ears for teething. He lifts Audrey up easily, takes the chair she was sat on and then settles her on his lap.

"He needed a name." she mumbles into his shoulder.

"I know, I know. Go on, tell me about Healy."

"It's Irish. Means ingenious."

"How did you choose that one?"

"The baby book. I picked out all my favourites and then I put them all in a hat and I picked one. If you don't like that one we can pick another one – there's a lot, but he needs a name. Daddy, he needs a name."

"I know, sweetheart. I know. I like Healy, and I think Mommy would too."


	3. Chapter 3

**I wasn't originally going to write this chapter yet, but then it kind of snuck up on me. So, yeah. Lucky you.**

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When she's ten, the people in her class start to treat her differently. Either they're too nice, offering to do this, to do that, do you want to play with us, I've saved you a seat. Or, they ignore her completely. Blank her during Recess, ignore her every time she attempts to talk to them. The teachers act like she's going to break, let her get away with everything. And that would be excellent if she was the kind of person to behave badly. Though, Audrey understands why. Of course she does. Her mother has been in a coma for the past two years and her father is not taking it well. And they didn't expect him to take it well, not at all. Just… not this badly. They thought he was rational, that he understand what exactly happened to his wife.

Audrey knows. She got the doctor to tell her what happened. Giving birth to her brother, the stress and the pressure on her body had caused a blood vessel in her mother's brain to burst, her brain had swelled and she'd slipped into a coma. The first few days had been hopeful. The next few weeks had been tentative. And after that… well, she can tell by the way the nurses look at them. Judge them, judge her father for keeping their mother and his wife alive. A waste of a bed and medicine and equipment for someone who's never going to wake up. They think they should let her go. Properly let her go. The body in the bed barely resembles her mother anymore. Everything that made her _her_, has long since gone. She's an empty shell.

That's how she explains it at school. When people ask, it's that her mother is a shell and we're just waiting for her to come back. Audrey isn't one for believing in hope, not really, but if other people want to hope that everything will turn out right then she's not going to hold it against them. How can she when they're the ones hoping for her mother to recover? For her mother to open her eyes, and be okay and for everything to go back to normal. No, she's not against hope and prayer and wishing on the first star you see at night, she's just a firm believer in reality. People call her a pessimist, tell her she should be praying every night, but she doesn't know who to pray to. If God existed, if God was there and he was watching their family then how could he have let this happen? How could he let her mother waste away in a hospital bed when she could be at home, with them? No, maybe she is a pessimist, but at least she won't be disappointed.

Healy doesn't seem to find anything wrong with not having a mother. Why would he when he's never known otherwise? Their father does everything he can for them, he's a mother and a father and a friend all at once, and he'd give them the world if they asked. Audrey helps where she can, helps to tidy, gets Healy dressed, tries to do her homework on her own just so she can give him a rest. She knows he needs a rest. A break from it all. He's wearing himself down, and she can tell that he's exhausted almost all of the time. When was the last time they went to visit mommy? Last week? Yes, last week. But it wasn't for long because none of them had slept well and Healy was cranky. Various uncles and Aunties visit on a regular basis, take turns in looking after them when it all gets a bit too much. Lets him do what he needs to do to get through the day without breaking down. Write, sleep, scream or cry. Audrey's heard him do that on more occasions than she likes, has grabbed a blanket and curled up on his lap more times than she can count. She thinks he's been drinking, can smell that sour stench that she's not sure she likes, but he needs her, and he cuddles her, keeps her warm, whispers silly words in her ears and calls her his butterfly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, so I am going away until the 1****st ****and I am laptopless, so I'm going to try and write as much as I can tonight, but no updates from me till probably the 2****nd****.**

**This chapter is all for Erin, yup.**

**Disclaimer: today I had an encounter with my ex's best friend. It was awkward.**

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A week before Healy's third birthday, Audrey starts skipping classes. It's not because she hates school, she doesn't. Not at all. But her father has started cutting down the amount of time they spend visiting her mother. They used to go a few of times a week, they get tea on their way home from picking Audrey up from school, and they eat it in her hospital room. A good few hours. Saturday or Sunday they'll be there all day. She'll bring a book, or her father will help her with her homework. Healy would play, or gurgle or sleep. And then it was a couple of times a week, then once a week. Sometimes they wouldn't go at all. Now, she's lucky if they go twice a month. And she knows why, though she pretends otherwise when her father says he's just too tired. The doctors, the nurses, they're all trying to talk to him about ending it, turning off her life support. He thinks by completely avoiding the hospital then they'll no longer ask him about it. He won't answer the phone if he knows it's them. But Audrey can't do it, can't keep going to school and then home and then school and then home over and over and know that her mother is in the city, and maybe she can't talk back, and maybe she can't hear her, but she deserves someone to visit her.

So, she ducks out of school most lunchtimes. Takes off any recognisable part of her uniform and jumps on the tube. She's done this journey so many times she could do it with her eyes closed. Four stops, change tubes, another two. Five minute walk. Inconspicuous in a hospital, she knows the back routes, knows how to get in without going through the front door (three years and journalists and paparazzi are sometimes still outside). Sometimes nurses stop her, sometimes doctors throw her cautious looks, but she looks sad and lonely and wonderfully pathetic. Dying parent in the hospital, who cares if a kid isn't in school? And it's not like she doesn't do work. She easily curls up in a chair and works through her books. It's a lot quieter than a classroom.

There's one doctor, Erin, who soon catches onto her, but she's nice and sneaks her cookies and fruit juice when she can. Sometimes she helps, sits with her when she's struggling with math problems, or she'll test her on her science and history and geography, or anything else that she needs to do. There's other doctors that threaten to phone her school, but she has no idea if they ever actually do so. No one has ever mentioned anything, no one has ever stopped her from leaving. She doesn't think they'd mind. They don't like having her in the classroom. And it's not like they can phone her father. It's not like they can wait until he visits. He hardly ever visits.

It's a new teacher, Mrs Huntington that starts to become concerned. Audrey likes her, she thinks. She treats her like normal, like she's not an eleven year old on the verge of a breakdown, gives her the same homework, the same pressure as everybody else. And then it all comes out. Her father is called into school where he tries not to cry, and besides a wobble of his bottom lip he manages it quite well. Audrey remains quite stoic, defends her actions because she thinks she's done the right thing. Her grades aren't slipping. So she misses a couple of afternoons here and there. It's not hurting anybody. They don't believe her. They have eyes on her almost constantly. They arrange for her to have counselling during lunchtime recess. And the lady is nice, she is. But she doesn't know why she's there. She doesn't need someone to talk to about her feelings. She's okay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Surprised I even managed to write this but hey. I think I almost fell asleep at one point my eyes won't stay open?**

**Disclaimer: DOTH MOTHER KNOW YOU WEARETH HER DRAPES?!**

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The therapist (some overly bouncy brunette with eyes that are too blue called Theresa) tries to talk to her about her mother. Her father. Her brother. Does she blame Healy? No. It's not Healy's fault. Why would Healy want to do that to his own mother? Ridiculous question. Audrey doesn't hold back from telling Theresa how she feels, about how ridiculous her questions are. Her mother would wake up if she could. Her mother is not one to stay asleep when her family needs her. She's not the one who needs the therapy, she's not the one who needs to be told that her mother isn't coming back. But of course, she's the minor, and her father is… well, her father. If he says she's going to therapy then she's going to therapy. And no one can make him do anything. She can't make him listen, he shuts down at any mention of his wife, of the hospital, of the choice he has to make. Audrey knows he knows he has to make it. She thinks he knows that she's not coming back. Five years, and nothing? He's not stupid. No, he's just in love.

People start to question his whereabouts. Questions in newspapers regarding his mental state. Thankfully, Audrey doesn't have to deal with that. Well, she gets bombarded with questions at school, but it's Paula who resolves everything. She doesn't think her father has any idea what's going on in the outside world, in the vicious circle of lies and rumours and page six magazine spreads. Sometimes she thinks she should tell him, at least so he can tell them that he's okay himself. Even if it's a lie, even if he's not okay and he's slipping into a downwards spiral of depression and grief and alcohol she doesn't want to have her family's business looking at her from everything she looks at. It's only because her father is – was? – a best-selling author that they even give a crap, anyway. If it was anybody else, if they were anybody else this wouldn't interest anybody. They could grieve in private. But no, heaven forbid.

So, you hate your father for being famous? _What?_ What kind of ridiculously stupid question is that. No, she doesn't hate her father for being famous. She doesn't hate her father for doing what he loves, for having a lifestyle that lets them live in comfort without having to worry about whether there'll be food in the house. Why would she resent that? It's not like his books killed her mother. It's not like if her mother had never picked up her father's book in a small bookshop, one rainy afternoon when was trying to escape from her drunk father the aneurism wouldn't have happened. It would have still been there. It would have burst eventually. But you wouldn't have to deal with all these pressure. All the questions. _Doesn't mean I hate him for being famous_.

She doesn't want to talk about her mother. Her mother isn't the issue. She doesn't have any issues. It's Healy she's concerned about. He'll ask questions eventually, she's surprised he hasn't started questioning the lack of one parent already. He'll ask questions and he will want to know why. Why is his mother dead, or asleep, or both. She doesn't blame him, but that doesn't mean he won't. If he gets the idea that he's too blame for his mother lying comatose in a hospital bed… she can't deal with two grieving family members. She can barely deal with her father, let alone her brother too. But she wants Healy to remain as innocent as possible until she has no choice but to tell him. That's the issue she has.


	6. Chapter 6

**People have told me that I NEED TO WAKE HER UP ALREADY and I'm sorry she's not going to BUT I am thinking of adding an epilogue which is a different ending to what I am planning, but I've had this plot in my head for days, and I've had the last chapter planned out in my head for longer than that, and I just… yeah, anyway. Two endings. That's what I am saying.**

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High school is not the same as middle school. Everybody Audrey meets; freshman, sophomores, juniors and seniors alike, they all know who she is. And not just because of who her father is, but because she's the girl with the comatose mother and the father who refuses to believe she won't wake up. It's the rumours that get her, that make the blood boil in her veins. Cancer, heart attack, car crash, all of those she can deal with. It's the one where people believe it was her father who put her there, her father who loves her mother more than anything. And yes, okay, he has, or rather he had, a strange curiosity with murder and death and he's spent how many years following homicide detectives around, and really would it be such a big surprise if he took it a couple of steps too far? Except they don't know him. They don't know her father, or how he would go to the ends of the world to defend and protect those that he loves? They don't know about the time he knocked down her mother's apartment door to rescue her from a burning building, tackled a gun man intent on killing her, saved her from a sinking car, who went to Paris when Alexis was kidnapped with virtually nothing to go on and bought both of them back again… no, if they knew that, then they wouldn't think badly of him. Audrey doesn't lie to herself, she knows her father is not against putting a bullet in somebody, knows he has done on past occasions, but it's a last resort. He doesn't want to kill anybody. Not unless it's a character in his books.

There's one girl, Becky Simpson, who seems to have a vendetta against her. Audrey has no idea why, she's never met her before, but she seems to be the one who's spreading the rumours around. She's a junior. Beyond hallways, canteens and study hall, there is no other interaction. It's not until she's using her afternoon of free periods to visit her mother's bedtime that things start to come clear. Part of her thinks that school somehow managed to wrangle her time table so she has at least one afternoon off for hospital visits, saving the hassle of trying to duck out of school at lunch time. She's got her nose buried in a book, Great Expectations, which she has tried to read a thousand times before but just never… got it. But she needs it for English, and if she'd try and read it anywhere else she'd just get distracted. Terribly, horribly distracted. And that's when Becky herself knocks on the door.

It turns out, much to Audrey's shock and disbelief, that Becky's younger brother is in a similar state up in the paediatric ward. This time, it was a car crash, and her parents are in a similar state to Audrey's father. She tries to deflect the anger and the hurt onto somebody else, somebody who knows what it's like. There are only a few people in that school who knows about her brother, where as everybody knows about Katherine Castle. It's easy to deflect prying eyes when somebody kind of famous is there to catch them. And she's sorry, she is. She knows that none of the rumours are true, that her father would never do such a thing. And she's sorry this whole thing happened. She's sorry people love too much, that they hurt and they cry and that they're so over come with grief that they can't think rationally.

She talks to Theresa about it, about coping tactics and bullying and irrational thinking. Theresa seems to think it's a good idea for the two to become friends, an idea which Audrey originally scoffs at. Friends with the girl who has been so good at making her life at school hell? No, thank you. But then Becky's brother (she finds out his name is Michael) goes into organ failure, and after two years of being under Becky's parents finally realise that their baby boy isn't going to come back. He never was. Becky doesn't want to tell the school what happened, only tells those who knew, but it's Audrey she invites to the funeral. She says she doesn't have to, if it's a little too close to home she'll understand, but Audrey goes. Alexis helps her pick out a new dress, tells her about funerals and what will happen, how to act and dress and it all seems a bit too much for Audrey to take in. But she breathes, just like Theresa taught her, and she's okay. It'll all be okay.

She holds Becky's hand through out the entire ceremony.


	7. Chapter 7

**I kept telling myself that I needed to write a chapter for Random Happenstances, but I was just staring at the document wondering why wasn't it writing itself, so I gave it up as a bad job and wrote this instead. Three chapters to go, and then the epilogue. Woo!**

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Becky speaks to her. Audrey hasn't talked to her mother, not in the way Becky does, since she was ten. But Becky talks to her about everything, about boys and school and work, and how her cousin is having a baby, how she's thinking about colleges and the future. Maybe a doctor, so she can help people like their families. Help them understand what's going on, what's going to happen, the likely outcomes. The best thing to do. She's still got another year to think about it, to make up her mind properly, but that's her goal. Audrey feels sick when she thinks about it. When she thinks about Becky leaving, when she thinks about how she's no longer going to be there during the day, to talk to at lunchtime, to visit when she's had a horrible day and she can't talk to her father or her brother, or even her sister, so she talks to Becky. Who is she going to talk to once she's gone? Who is going to be there to understand when her father had too much to drink and she can't get him into bed at night? And who's going to talk to her mother when no one else dares to? Becky still has some insane hope that she'll wake up, that's why she talks to her. Reminds her that there are people here, waiting and hoping and praying that she'll wake up.

Audrey doesn't want her to wake up. She thinks that's selfish of her, maybe. Denying her brother a mother. Denying her mother a life. But she's been "asleep" for seven years now. Seven years, same bed, un-moving. Even if she does wake up, her muscles will be all but useless, her joints all but painful. She's skin and bones. Her skin is paper thin, too frail. If she did wake up, she'll be a shadow of her former self. She doesn't want her mother to wake up and find herself like that. Not when she used to be so strong and amazing and powerful. Imagine waking up and finding out that everything you had, everything you were… has wasted away into nothingness. Weeks and months of physical therapy, weeks and months of getting over the fact she's missed so much of life. She's missed her children growing up. She'll wake up and the man who used to be her husband, who used to be wonderful and full of life and happiness and was ever the optimist, has turned into the complete opposite. She doesn't want that for her mother. Her mother doesn't deserve the pain. She deserves to be at peace, to rest. And if Audrey had the choice, that is what she would do. She'd tell the doctors to end it, to turn the machines off. To let her go.

She doesn't even care about the fallout. Once she's eighteen, if needed, she can tell them. She can say she wants the life support turned off, and she can go to college and just escape it all. Do what she wants to in life without having to worry about her father and her brother mourning a person who has been gone for ten years. Well, her father. Her brother doesn't understand it yet. Not fully. She thinks he should, surely Healy should have some inkling of understanding about why he's parentless, but it seems her father wants him to remain as innocent as possible until he has no other choice. Audrey tries to argue with him about it, but he says he's happy. He's happy, and he doesn't want him to be sad. There's too much sadness in the house as it is.


	8. Chapter 8

**In which I should be writing RH but instead I am… not. Also watching the Hobbit. Still in my pyjamas.**

**Disclaimer: we get the promo for Still tomorrow okay I'm not ready?**

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Becky leaves for college when Audrey is sixteen. Audrey tries to be okay with it. It's not like Washington and Seattle are all that far away. A plane ride. That's all. So what if it's the other side of the country and she's three hours behind. That doesn't stop them from talking. And Becky said she'll be home for Christmas. That's only a couple of months. You can do this, Audrey. That's what Becky said when her bedroom was dark and it was late and she was trying so hard not to cry at the fact she has less than a week left with her best friend. Except Becky had noticed (of course she'd noticed)and she'd spent the next half an hour talking solidly of how amazing Audrey is. How strong and determined she is, just like her mother. Doesn't give up. Not when there's plenty of fight left in her. And she's a Junior now. Junior's don't get upset when their best friend leaves for college. And she can't be upset because Healy needs her. Healy who is finally starting to question why everybody else has a mother, but he doesn't. And every time he asks, their father he turns away, walks towards his office and locks himself in. So of course, he turns to his big sister. She tries to explain it to him the best way she can, tries to remember the way the doctors explained it to her when she was eight, she takes Healy to the hospital and asks one of the doctors there to talk him through it. They manage it more successfully than she could ever hope to.

Healy comes into her room one night. The first time it's a couple of weeks after the trip to the hospital and he crawls under her covers, small and tiny and shaking. Each visit gets more and more common, until he sleeps in her bed five nights a week. Audrey thinks he's starting to question his role in things, asking himself if he's the one to blame, if he put his mother in that hospital bed, doomed to never wake up again. She does her best to soothe him, cradles him and reads him bedtime stories, sings soft lullabies until he drifts off to sleep again. But then she doesn't. She lies awake, too scared to close her eyes in case he wakes up with yet another nightmare. He won't tell her what the nightmares are about, and Audrey doesn't think their father even knows about them, but she knows he wakes up crying, sobbing into his pillow for his momma until she comes in and rocks him back to sleep again.

At Christmas, she's there when Becky arrives off the plane. She'd been worried that now she's at college, going where she wants to in life, that she wouldn't have time for Audrey. Audrey the little girl, who's still in high school. But whatever fears she had are unfounded. Becky sweeps her up in her characteristic hug, and she still smells like watermelon. She's still Becky. They go for coffee, they talk. Becky gets Audrey to drive her home and she manages it without making too much of a fool of herself. She's proud of herself. She's never driven that far before, and not without her father or her sister next to her. Becky's parents greet her with the love and attention that she thinks she'd get back at home, if only they hadn't been struck by tragedy. There's no sign of grief in this house. There's pictures of Michael up on the walls, and his bedroom has remained untouched, but his family aren't wallowing in their grief anymore. They've let him go, and moved on.

Becky's parents have always offered to talk to her father. To try and convince him that letting Kate go will be better for everybody. Except, her father is stubborn and hard heading and he's grieving and he's still blindly hoping that the world will come to rights. That one day, the universe will realise just how much shit it's put their family through and it will make everything okay. Wake her up. Make her okay. Make their family whole again.


	9. Chapter 9

**I keep starting this chapter, and then it keeps going wrong. So, I'm sorry about the delay. One more chapter, and then the different ending that people have asked for.**

**Disclaimer: here's to a season 6? Please ABC? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?**

* * *

When Audrey is seventeen, her father announces he's writing a new book. It takes them all by surprise, family and public alike, considering he'd said that he'd never write again, not when the one person he said he always wrote for can no longer read. But he's writing, and Audrey is hoping that this is it. That this is the start of her father starting to get his life back in order. It's not like he's ever been a bad father. He's not, not at all. He'll read stories to them, he'll take them out on trips, and he spoils them positively rotten. They have movie nights, camped out on the sofa with massive bowls of popcorn, laughing and joking with each other. Just like a family should. Sometimes, only sometimes, Audrey forgets that there's someone missing, that her mother and her father should be making disgusting faces at each other, arguing over whether they've eaten too much popcorn, about the fact it's way past Healy's bed time. It's not that she wants to forget. She never wants to forget about her mother, but there's one small part of her that relishes those moments. When she doesn't have to worry about a grieving family, and she's free to be a seventeen year old girl. Getting annoyed at Healy taking up too much space on the sofa, at her father for being embarrassing and so not funny. She wishes she could be a normal seventeen year old. Just for a while.

She's more than a little surprised when he tells her that he's finishing the half written book that has been sat deserted for the past nine years. She was happy he was writing again, but she never expected him to pick Nikki and Rook up again. Not when it was based so completely on her parents. But he wants to finish it. If he can't finish his own story with Kate, then he should at least finish the one thing he has control over. They deserve that. Kate would want him to do it, he says. Kate would want him to do something else too, but Audrey refrains from mentioning it. Soon, maybe. When he's happier, and his book is done and he's accepted the fact that things need to end. Then she'll talk to him.

_City_ _Heat_ is, without a doubt, one of his best works. It's complicated, and it's full of twist and turns and surprises, but it's _good_. It sky rockets to the top of almost every best seller list. Reviews come in thick and fast, singing high praises, applauding his courage, crediting his imagination. Going out with a bang, that's what her father says. And Audrey is ridiculously proud of him. It's taken him a while, and lord she's wanted to scream at him on more than one occasion, but he's getting there. Slowly. She tells him, one evening when it's just the two of them on the sofa. Healy is at a friends for a sleepover, and Audrey wanted to do something just for the two of them. Something Healy doesn't like to do (much to their father's chagrin). Marvel films. In order. Start to finish. All in one sitting. Audrey knows her father thinks that she's disappointed in him, but she's not. She understands that he's grieving, she is too, in her own way. She just wished there was a way to make him see that there was a better option. But that's neither here nor there. Not right now. She tells him, and he kisses the top of her head, and she pretends she doesn't feel the tears on her skin.


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay, I'm sorry this has taken so long. I wanted to take my time with this, to get it write and pay justice to what Kate means to Audrey, Healy and Castle respectfully. So I hope the wait was worth it.**

**Okay, so this chapter is basically **_**it.**_** It's gonna hurt, and it's emotional so if you want happy happy endings then don't read this and just wait for the epilogue cos it's all happy and stuff (but please read this chapter because I am quite proud of it okay).**

**Disclaimer: I am so conflicted over Watershed I don't know what to do with my life anymore.**

* * *

"Dad."

It takes him a moment to look up from his book, and Audrey thinks it's because he knows what she's come to talk him about. "Yeah, Audrey?"

"Tomorrow… I'm going to the hospital. I just… wondered if you wanted to come with me."

"No, I'm… alright. Just tell her I said hello."

"Dad, I'm – I'm going to tell them to turn her off. If you want to say goodbye, you should do it in person. I can't just tell her you said goodbye. She deserves more than that. Healy's coming with me. You really should. I know this is heartbreaking for you, I know this is hard, but she's been lying in that hospital bed for ten years. Ten years, Dad. If she was going to wake up she would have done by now. She's a fighter, and she'd have fought for all she could to come back, but it's over. She's not coming back."

"Audrey-"

"I'm going at ten. If you're ready, you're more than welcome to come with us. Or I'll give it a couple of hours, give you time to get there. Just please come, Dad."

* * *

"Will it hurt?"

Audrey brushes her brothers fringe away from his forehead, he really needs it cutting, Mom would have tutted and sighed and dragged him down to the hairdressers months ago. "No, it won't hurt. She won't feel a thing."

"Are you sure?"

"She's asleep, Healy. She stopped feeling anything years ago."

"And there's no chance that she'll wake up?"

"We've given her enough chances to wake up. If she was going to wake up, she would have done. She loved us Healy, she loved us so much, and if she could she would be with us today. Mom was a fighter. She fought for us, and she fought for Dad, and her life, but sometimes it's just… sometimes the fight isn't good enough. But she tried her hardest. I know she tried her hardest. And she would have loved you. You're inquisitive, and you're loving and you're absolutely adorable. Every girl in your school is going to completely love you." Healy blushes, because he knows that she knows about Kelly. The blonde haired, blue eyed girl in the grade above him who Healy has worshipped since he was seven. "And she'd love your hugs. You squeeze really tight, and it feels like all the stress and troubles of the day just melt away. She'd have loved that after a hard day at work."

"Like when you miss Becky."

"Like when I miss Becky. It's nice knowing you're there. And Dad loves your hugs. He hugs you every chance he gets, doesn't he?"

"Dad's good at hugs. He wraps you up and surrounds you and makes you feel safe."

"Mm, I'm so lucky to have a family that gives excellent hugs."

"What will you do when you leave for college? Who are you gonna hug then?"

"I'm sure I'll find someone. And if not, it just means I have to come home."

Healy wraps his arms around her in a sudden hug, head in the crook of her neck. "I'm going to miss you. Who am I going to talk to now?"

"Hey, you've got Dad!"

"Yeah, but-"

"Healy, Dad may have had his issues in the past, but he loves us. He loves us so much, and if you need him, then you can rest assured that he'll be right there. If you need a hug in the middle of the night, then he will lay awake with you until you fall asleep. He will make up silly stories just to take your mind off things, he will play laser tag with you, and he'll play games and he'll help you with your homework. Just because … he loves mom. He loves her so much, and when you're older, when you meet that one person who you want to give your whole world to, you'll understand. Dad gave Mom his whole world, and she gave him his, and they thought they'd have it all. They thought they'd be there for first steps and first words, for your first school performance, for graduation. To attend your wedding, to hold their grandchildren. And Dad always thought that he'd have Mom next to him, to hold his hand and be the one who doesn't bawl their eyes out when he walks his daughter down the aisle. He's just scared. He's an amazing father, he really, honestly is. Being a single father is terrifying."

"Do you tell him that?"

"I… not exactly."

"Maybe you should. Maybe he doesn't believe that he's good enough."

Audrey regards Healy with pursed lips, but he can see the amused twinkle in her eyes. "Alright, enough out of you. Bedtime. Go on."

"Can I stay with you?"

"I've got work to do, if you don't mind the light."

Healy's shaking his head and already kicking his legs under her covers. He rolls over into the corner when she climbs over him, pulls a pillow up and drags the covers over his head. Audrey switches her bedside light on and switches off the main light. She wants to get this assignment out of the way before tomorrow.

* * *

Tomorrow dawns cloudy, but there are brief hints of sunshine when the cloud thins every so often. Breakfast is a quiet affair, all three of them are in their own world. Their father still hasn't told them whether he's joining them but Audrey is giving him time. They've still got another hour before she's planning on leaving. Anything could happen in the space of 60 minutes, but she's trying not to get her hopes up.

"Do you want me to phone for a town car?"

"No, I've got money for a cab. But thanks. Maybe on the way back?"

"You've got the number, right? Just tell them to put it on my card."

Audrey sighs, pushes her bowl away. "You're not coming."

"I don't know. I… I always told your mom that I wouldn't give up on her. And it just… it feels like I am. And whether or not that she's actually gone, that's my wife. She's still my wife, and-"

"Dad, I know. I do. But do you really think Mom would want you to do this? She'd hate to see you like this. You need to move on, you need to let her go."

Healy is tugging on her sleeve, and Audrey turns to look at him, giving her father enough time to slip away. "Don't be so hard on him."

"Healy, I'm not-"

But he's already slipping down from the breakfast bar, and she's left there, staring into her own glass of orange juice. She's not being too hard on her father, is she? He needs a push. He needs to be pushed, and if no one else will do it, then she's going to be the one who will. She wishes she didn't have to. She wishes that he could be strong without her, that Healy and herself had a parent to lean on when they needed to. But, after today, it'll be fine. It won't be _fine_, but it'll be … fine.

* * *

The hospital is just as normal as she remembers it. It's only been a couple of days since she was last here, nothing really should have changed, but Audrey expected it to be foreboding somehow. Darker. More threatening. Except it's not. Brick walls, glass windows, the line of grass leading up to the entrance. Just… completely normal. People going about their days like any other, like Audrey and her ten year old brother aren't going to walk into that hospital and essentially kill their mother. Maybe that's what's weird. It should be a horrible and dark and terrible day, except it's not. It's just… plain. Normal. She's handing over the money for the cab in a daze, and Healy is having to push against her side to make her move. Audrey shakes her head and moves, taking Healy's' hand as he steps out onto the side walk.

"I'm scared." He says, shrinking into her side.

"Me too," Audrey admits, not wanting to step inside the building, "but, we can do this. We have to be strong for Mom, right?"

"She'd want us to be strong."

"Yeah, she would. And we're going to walk into that hospital, and we're going to tell her that we love her. We love her, and we're going to miss her. We tell her that."

"Can we tell her Daddy loves her too?"

"We'll tell her Daddy loves her too. We all love her, so much. We'll always love her." Healy opens his mouth to say something but closes it again, with a sniff. Audrey bends down in front of him, takes his hands in hers. "It'll be okay, Healy. It will, I promise. This is scary, and it's going to hurt, but we've got each other. We've got Dad, and Alexis, and Gram. We're not alone in this, I promise."

Healy nods and bites his lip, chews on it, just like his mother used to do. "Okay."

* * *

"Audrey, Healy, it's nice to see you." Healy grins at Erin, lets go of Audrey's hand to go and give the nurse a hug. Audrey lets herself smile, before Erin turns her gaze on the eighteen year old. "You here to visit?"

"Yes… and no. I want to talk to Doctor Delemare about removal of care."

"Audrey, you can't-"

"I'm eighteen now. I have my birth certificate to prove it. I am an adult in my own right, and I want to remove care. My dad… he won't. He won't do it, and I can understand it, I can. But it's been ten years. It's been ten years and she hasn't woke up and she's not going to wake up. I know that, I've known it for years. But I couldn't do anything about it. But now I can, and I want to go to college in September. I want to go to college and not have to worry about this. I want my dad to move on with his life, to not be stuck in the past. If I go, if I go and Mom is still alive, Dad's not going to take Healy to visit. He won't, and I don't want him to not be able to visit."

"I can come here on my own." Healy insists.

Audrey ignores him, but carries on talking. "My mom has been dead for ten years. And I only knew her for eight years, but I know that she wouldn't want this. She'd want to be laid to rest, properly. Not wasting away in a hospital bed. That's not my mom in that bed. She looks like her, but it's not…"

"You've thought a lot about this."

Audrey turns around, finds Doctor Delemare standing behind them. "I've had a lot of time. And this is the right thing to do."

Delemare regards her thoughtfully for a moment, and then nods. "Okay. Well, there's some paperwork that you need to sign."

"Do we – have to do it now? I told my Dad that I would give him a while. If he wanted to come and say goodbye. And we want…"

Delemare lays a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Take as much time as you need. Just let me know when you're ready."

"I'll sign the paperwork now, just to get it out of the way."

"I'll get it sorted, and I'll bring it to you. No need to stay hovering out here."

* * *

Audrey likes Delemare. She knows he's resigned himself to the fact that nothing short of a miracle will make Kate Beckett wake up, but he still tries. If something new comes along, rest assured he'd try it. And he doesn't judge them for keeping her alive so long, ignores the whispers from the nurses, tells them to be quiet if he catches them at it. And Audrey has always been grateful for that.

Audrey signs the paperwork with the feeling that her stomach is trying to claw its way up her throat. She's just signed her mother's life away, a scribble on a piece of paper. And if this wasn't so important, she'd panic. She'd rip the paper up and tell them to stuff it. But she can't because they need this. They need the closure. Erin takes the paperwork away with a sad smile and a squeeze of Audrey's shoulder, closing the door behind her. Healy is standing at the foot of the hospital bed, hands tight around the railing. "Do you think Dad will come?"

"I hope so, Healy. But, I really don't know."

"I hope he does. He should say goodbye."

"I think he's already said his own goodbye. But he should, but we can't be mad at him if he doesn't, okay?"

"You keep getting mad at him." Healy replies, looking at her rather petulantly. "You never let him forget that he's let this carry on for so long."

"I'm not mad at him. I'm really not. I just wish that he would see what he's doing to himself. To us. But if he doesn't come and say goodbye, then that's okay."

"Can I say goodbye?"

"Of course you can. Take as long as you need. If you want me to, I'll stay outside. Give you some privacy."

Healy shakes his head violently and steps backwards, fumbling with his hand to reach for hers. "No, I want you to stay."

"Okay, okay, I'll stay."

"I don't know what to say."

"Well, go and sit on the bed, and hold her hand. Have a think. There's no rush, Healy. And you don't need to give her a giant speech. Just… something nice."

She nudges Healy towards the bed and he goes slowly, reaching for his mother's hand with his own. Audrey watches him carefully before taking a careful seat on the armchair. Healy hesitates for a moment before scrambling on the bed. Technically, they're not allowed to be sat on the bed, but they've been doing it for the past five years and no one has ever said anything. Maybe they've stopped caring.

"Hey, Mom. Mommy. You've never met me, and I don't know if I can count this as meeting you, but I feel like I know you. From everything Daddy's told me, and Audrey and Alexis and Gram, I feel like I know you. And Audrey said you'd like me. And I hope you would. We had a day at school where we had to talk about a parent, and I chose you. Everyone expected me to talk about Daddy, but they already know about him and I wanted them to know that you're not just a person lying in a bed. And they liked you, Mom. They wanted to know if you told us all about the murders and the dead bodies and all the gruesome parts, and whether you let us hold your gun. And I told them how you'd show Audrey around the precinct and Daddy persuaded you to lock her up in holding, and she sits in your chair and spins herself around until she feels dizzy."

Audrey laughs at that, her head suddenly filled with memories. Her mother's spinning chair, her father pushing her around and around, her loud shrieks filling the bullpen. At least until Kate had come back and nudged her out of her chair and toward Castle's lap. Though she'd rarely actually gone there. There was always a spare chair somewhere in the precinct, and even if there wasn't, Uncle Javi would happily give up his chair for her.

"And I wish I could have shared some of those memories with you, I wish you could have spun me around in the chair and locked me up and told me off for sneaking looks at all the gruesome photos. But that's okay, because Audrey has lots of stories. And Daddy has lots of them too, and Uncle Javi and Uncle Kevin, and Auntie Lanie has lots, but she won't tell me them. She says when I'm older. But I am older, Mommy. What did you do?" Audrey stifles her own laugh, knows plenty of those stories herself. Ridiculous stories of college and too much tequila, of too many late nights and too many bottles of wine, of dance floors and weddings and birthday parties. So many stories.

Healy's moving again, getting up on his knees so he can fold his body over hers. She ducks her head for a moment because he knows what he's doing, has done it more times than she could count when she was his size and could fit on the bed without making everything awkward. Just listening to her heartbeat for the last time. And then he's whispering something in her ear, something Audrey doesn't catch but she can almost guess what he's saying. And then he's scrambling backwards, still careful to not dislodge any wires even though it probably doesn't matter anymore. She opens her arms as he stumbles towards her, hauls him up onto her lap and wraps her arms tight around him. He's shaking, and he's making these small whimpers that are muffled by her shoulder.

"It's okay," she whispers, rocking him to and fro as he clutches at her shirt, "it'll be okay."

"I want to go home."

"It's okay, we'll go. We'll go home and you can stay with Daddy and I'll just come back. It's fine."

"You'll be on your own."

"No, I won't. Erin's here. And we like Erin, don't we. I'm sure she wouldn't mind staying here for a while."

"But I don't want to leave you." He lifts his head up, and Audrey uses her sleeve to wipe away his tears.

"Well, why don't you stay with Erin outside while I say my goodbyes, and then I'll stay with the doctor. How about that? I'll come and find you as soon as we've finished. You can give me the biggest hug you have ever given anyone, and afterwards we'll go for ice cream. We'll phone Dad, and he can meet us there. It'll be nice."

Healy contemplates this for a few seconds, and then nods. "But you'll come find me if you need me. Won't you?"

"I promise."

* * *

She watches Healy go with a heavy heart, waits until he's caught up with whatever Erin is doing before closing the door again. She leans against it heavily, eyes closed and breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth. Calm. She needs to be calm. Healy needs her to be calm. She could allow herself to cry, for maybe a minute. And then, calm and collected. She crosses over to the bed and sits on the opposite side to Healy. It's the hand without the IV and the drips and all the wires, and she doesn't feel worried about picking it up and resting it in her lap, cradled in both of her own hands. It's heavy, weighted with age and illness and somehow death, but it feels light. Light because it hasn't been used. Ten years and the muscles and the bones have whittled away and are as frail as dead leaves on the wind. And she hates it. She hates that she's had to let her mother fall into this state of disrepair. And she hates her dad for it. Oh, she loves him, don't her wrong, she loves him with all of her heart and more, but she just… no, there's no point. What's done is done. He can't change anything now, and there's no point being angry at him. He's angry at himself enough for both of them.

"Hi, mom." She almost laughs at how ridiculous this is. "Healy was right. I have no idea what to say." She strokes her hands over the knuckles on Kate's hands, feels the cold metal of her wedding ring against her skin. She's silent for a few moments, trying to think, trying to wonder how her father would say this. Put his magic ability with words to use. "I don't blame you, y'know. I'm not angry. You'd have woken up, if you could. I have to keep believing that, you didn't just… give up. You're not just… someone who gives up. Of all the things Dad has told me I've always known that you were a fighter. You fought for everything you stood by, everything that you believed in and everyone you loved. And you loved us. You loved us all, so much. You still do. You still do because you're still here. In a way. You're still here. You're everywhere. In Dad's books, in pictures, there's so much of you in Healy. Oh, Mom, you'd love Healy. I mean, you would anyway, but he's so… he's passionate, and he'll defend anything that he believes in. And he loves, he doesn't show it in the best ways sometimes, but you can never deny where his heart is. I can't believe he's ten. He's grown up so fast. We've all grown up so fast. You'd be proud of us Mom. Dad wrote a new book. I didn't think he would, I thought it would hurt him too much, but he did. Some of his best work."

She wipes away a sudden tear, takes a moment to steady herself. "He'd be here. If he could… he'd… he thinks he's giving up on you. If he lets you go, he thinks that's he given up on all hope that you're ever coming back. And you know Dad. He's optimistic, and he thinks the world is fine just as long as he pretends it's fine. And it's not fine. Nothing about this is fine because he's left you lying in a hospital bed, wasting away into this shell of the person you used to be because he's too damn scared to accept reality. And I hate him for it. I love him, Mom. He's my father and I love him so much, but I hate him for doing this to you. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have had to succumb to ten years in a hospital bed. It's not you. This isn't… it's not who you were supposed to be."

There's a knock on the door, a quiet timid thing that sounds like it could be Healy, so she lays her mother's hand back on the bed, leans over and presses her mouth to Kate's forehead. She squeezes her eyes shut, tries to stop the tears that are imminent at the back of her eyes. "I love you, mom. I love you so much and I wish… I wish so much. I wish you could have known Healy. That's all I wish, really. If there was anything… I wish you could have met Healy." Another knock. She shifts off the bed and walks to the door, pulls it open.

"Audrey, I… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, I just…"

Audrey stares at her dad, dumbfounded. "Dad, I- you came. I didn't… think…"

"I thought about what you said. And you're right. You've been right for years only I've been too… stubborn to see it. And Kate… she wouldn't want me to do this. She wouldn't, and she'd hate to see me like this, she'd hate me for leaving her like this for so long."

Audrey doesn't answer, just flings herself at him. He catches her, warm and solid and safe and he smells like home. She gasps into his shirt, really can't help the tears that flow so freely now, and how did she ever think she had a hope of holding them back? How did she think that she'd be completely okay with turning her mother's life support off? "It's okay." He mumbles in her ear. "It's okay, I've got you. It's… everything's okay. We'll be okay."

"Dad, I-"

"It's okay, Audrey. It's okay. You did what you had to. I'm not mad. I'm proud of you. I'm so proud of you. You did something that I couldn't bear to do. I couldn't imagine a life without your mother, so much so that I was completely blind to what she'd want me to do. But you weren't. You knew. You knew, and you asked and you asked, even thought I kept saying no. I wish you didn't have to. I wish you didn't have to grow up when you did, and I wish that Kate was still here to see everything. You've grown up into an amazing, beautiful young woman and I am so proud of you. I am so, _so_ proud of you."

"I thought I could do it. I thought I could, and I signed the papers. I signed them, but – I can't. I can't let them."

"Yes, yes you can. You can do this, okay. We can do this. As a family. We've got each other, okay. That's all we need. We can let her go." There's another pair of arms around her waist and Audrey looks down to find Healy trying to hug them both. "You don't have to be the strong one anymore, Audrey. I'm here now. It's okay."

* * *

"Audrey says she won't feel anything. That's true, right? She won't hurt."

Doctor Delemare shakes his head, kneels down to look at Healy. "She won't feel a thing. She's already asleep. You can hold her hand, if you want. Just to make sure. Dad's got one hand, why don't you hold the other?"

"But, Audrey. Audrey needs a hand to hold."

"I'll hold yours, Healy. And I'll hold Dad's with the other. We'll all hold hands." Audrey drags her chair closer to the bed, stretches her arm across the bed to her father who wraps his hand around hers. She's thankful for it, because she can't stop shaking and the large confines of his palm and his thick fingers are enough to still them.

Healy's hand is clammy and warm and if it was anything else she'd throw him off and wipe the sweat off her palm. But she can't because he needs her.

"Okay, I'm going to turn off the machine that's breathing for her. She'll stop breathing, and shortly after that, her heart will stop. The monitors will start beeping, but I can turn the sound off. But then… then she'll be gone."

"Okay. Okay, we're… we're ready. Turn it off."

Audrey holds her breath, doesn't realise just how tight she's squeezing Healy's hand until he whines in pain. "Sorry, I'm… sorry. Didn't mean to hurt you."

They watch, all four of them, the room deathly quiet, as Kate's chest rises… falls… rises… falls… and then stops. Audrey breathes out, tries to steady her breathing in time to the squeezing of her father's hand around hers. Doctor Delemare's eyes are on the monitors, but Audrey can't tear her eyes away from her mother. It's a few precious moments, a few moments where her mother is alive and she's not being supported by machines. It's just her heart… her heart beating away in a broken body. And then… it's not. Delemere quietly announces it.

Time of death.

Fourteen oh three.

* * *

**Phew.**

**Wow.**

**Okay.**

**That was an emotional chapter. This could have gone so many ways, and I think the main reason I found it so hard to write is that I really had no idea which way it was going to go. I just went with the flow. With how it felt, how the characters would react.**

**And I think I got it right.**

**I hope I did them justice.**

**So now, in a couple of days, you'll get the epilogue, which an alternate ending where it's all happy happy. So I hope you look forward to that. Thank you to all of you, for the reviews and the love/hate/death threats.**

**I love you all.**

**KT**

**xo**


	11. Epilogue

**Due to the amount of KT I HATE YOU's and KT YOU SUCK's and KT MAKE IT HAPPY's I have started the epilogue a day early. I HOPE YOU APPRECIATE IT OKAY.**

**But as promised, a happy alternate ending.**

**I hope this makes up for the pain and torture and HEART WRENCHING SADNESS that I have made you endure. Seriously though, I never expected the amount of attention that this has gotten since I first published it. I never meant to make so many of you cry! Thank you for all the reviews and the love/hate/everything.**

**Honestly, I wasn't quite sure where I wanted this to go/end, so I'm kinda iffy on it. But oh well. You asked, I gave.**

**This goes out to Becca (who we'll pretend is Becky shh) and Ris and Ellie (who frankly leaves the best reviews) for being their frankly well awesome selves even if Ris has done nothing but sass me all day and Ellie is basically ignoring me. But w/e. This is for you.**

* * *

It's slow, at first. The huge pressure, the feeling of a giant weight pressed against the inside of her skull, it lifts. Slowly. Ever so slowly, the pressure leaves and she feels… like she's waking up. Like she's been asleep. She's just waking up. And she's trying to wake up, she's trying to open her eyes but they're heavy. Oh, they're so heavy. She could just go back to sleep. She could. It would be so easy. The pull of it is still there. Only… there's something pushing her in the opposite direction. Urging her onwards, away from the dark. She's not sure what. She can't quite tell what it is, but it's there and it's strong and familiar. There's noise now, beeps and low murmurs, something that sounds like hissing. The feeling is stronger now. She can start to pinpoint it. Her hand. Someone, there's someone holding her hand.

And then, then it's sudden and she can't stop it even if she wanted to, but her eyes are flying open and she can't – she can't _breathe_. She chokes on something – there's something in her throat and it's unnatural and foreign and she lifts her hands to try and pull it – she needs it out – she needs it –

"Kate, relax." There's a strong grip on her wrists, but she struggles – she needs to breathe, damnit – "Kate, sweetheart, just stop struggling. Please, stop struggling."

She makes a strangled moan around the pipe, squeezes her eyes shut. Oh, oh everything hurts. Everything's too…

"Kate, I need you to keep still." She doesn't recognise that voice. It's new. Reassuring, there's on trace of slight panic likes with… Castle. That was Castle. "Just for a minute, and I'll take the tube out."

It's a horrible feeling, having the breathing tube taken out. She wants to gag, and it leaves her throat raw. But then she can breathe. She can breathe and it's painful against the back of her throat, but her lungs are full and the pain is dissipitating. Oh, she could cry. She is crying, she realises, when there's soft fingers catching the tears from her cheeks. Tiny hands, not like Castle. She turns her head, smiles, oh it feels good to smile. Audrey. Brave little Audrey. Still hasn't let go of her hand.

She tries to lift her arm, just to touch her, just to reassure her, but it's heavy and it's difficult. She groans, closes her eyes against the frustration. She wants her family. She needs her family and she can't even lift her arm to touch them.

"Take it easy, Kate. You've just woken up from a coma. It'll take a while for things to return to normal. Don't rush it."

"Baby," she croaks, her eyes turning to Castle, pleading with him, "I was… baby. Castle."

"He's fine. He's perfectly healthy. He's just here." He takes a half step backwards and turns so he can reach into the cot that has been in the room ever since he was allowed. "He's great."

She manages to lift her arm towards Castle, and just like always, he knows what she wants and he carefully settles their son's prone form on Kate's chest. He's startled for a moment, his eyes wide in alarm, but then she feels him relax. Kate knows, remembers from Audrey how comforting just the sound of her heartbeat was to a new born. And it's a comfort to her, to have that familiar weight, the one that she'd grown so used to over the past few months. Audrey still has her hand, and Kate pulls lightly on it, and Audrey moves, curling into her side. The little girl is trying her hardest not to cry, but she can feel the slight tremors in her body. And then there's the way she hides her face in her shoulder. She lets her. She's never one to let anyone see her tears as it is.

The doctor, whatever his name is, somehow manages to work around her, testing her reactions and her memory. And he seems happy. He says he'll keep her in for observation, just for a few more days, and as long as everything is all okay, she'll be free to go home.

* * *

He's loathe to disturb her. He doesn't want to because she's had no time with her son. No time with her son, where as he's had a week. But he's had a week of watching her sleep, of not knowing that she's even going to wake up again, and he just… needs to…

"Castle, you're staring."

"Can't help it."

She looks up at him, momentarily torn from her week old son, and she smiles at him. That toothy grin and he almost … okay he is, he can't help welling up. He just… he's spent a week waiting for her to wake up, hoping and wishing on every god and deity that he can think of that Kate would open her eyes again. And she has, and she's okay, she's alive and there's no lasting damage and he thinks he deserves to be emotional.

"Come here." She's shifting sideways in the bed, careful to not disturb the yet to be named baby boy and patting the empty spot she just vacated. And he wants to. He wants to so desperately feel her warm skin and her heartbeat and her breath on his cheek, but he's scared. He's terrified and there's still IV drips and monitors. "Castle, it's fine. Come on."

He doesn't need to be told twice, he's rolling onto the bed next to her. It's a bit of a squish and his son squawks for a short period of time, but he's soon quietened by the sure and deft strokes down the small bump of his nose. Amazing. She's not been aware of him for less than a day and Kate's got him all sussed out. Magic. Just magic.

"He needs a name."

"I'm drawing a blank." He huffed, looking down at his son whose eyes are slowly, slowly slipping shut. "We'll ask Audrey. She might have some ideas."

"She always has some ideas about something or other." Kate hums, leaning her head against his shoulder. "We should wake her up soon."

"She's exhausted. We'll leave her for a while. She'll wake up when she's ready."

"Castle…"

"Yeah?"

"I want my daughter."

"I – yeah, right. Hang on." He slides off the bed and heads for the armchair. Audrey's curled up in it under one of his jackets, fast asleep. He kneels down, wincing a bit at his back and his knees and oh, really he's getting too old for this. "Hey, my little butterfly." She stirs, barely, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. "Come on, Audrey. Wake up, there's my girl."

"Momma…" she mumbles, turning her head towards him.

"Momma wants to see you. Why don't you open your eyes." She does, slowly, blinks heavily to try and wake up properly. He feels bad, he does, because she is so completely worn down and he was happy to let her sleep.

Audrey holds her hands out to him and he shouldn't, he really shouldn't because he's old and achy and he's got to stand up again but he picks her up anyway and carries her over to the bed. Baby's eyes are suddenly wide and observing, all traces of sleep gone, concentrating on his big sister. It's not so easy getting onto the bed when he's got Audrey in his arms, but he manages it eventually. She is a heavy weight on his chest, he thinks she's actually still half asleep and he runs his hand up and down her back. "What's his name?"

"We haven't decided yet." Kate replies, reaching over to brush her hair away from her forehead. "You need a haircut."

"He needs a name. Something that starts with an A. We can both be A's."

"Okay. Give us names that begin with an A."

"Adam. Like Adam the Ant. Or Anthony. Or Aaron. Aiden. Alan."

"Alfie." Kate says, looking down at him. "He's an Alfie."

"Alfie-Lee. With a hyphen. Alfie-Lee Castle."

Kate smiles, taps Alfie-Lee's nose with her finger. He wrinkles his face up in confusion and Kate laughs, palming his tiny head with his peach fuzz hair with her palm. "Alfie-Lee Castle. I like it."

* * *

_-eighteen years later-_

She's nervous. Terrified. Shaking in her boots and it feels like her stomach is trying to force its way up her throat. Wouldn't do. Wouldn't do at all. Completely ruin her dress. Oh, she needs her mom. She needs her mom, just to calm her down and remind her to breathe. It's not that she doesn't want to marry Harvey. She does. She loves Harvey more than she's ever loved anything ever in the world, but oh, this is. This is her wedding day. This is the biggest day of her life so far and she is completely freaking out about it. Becky is not particularly helpful, she's too busy worrying about whether or not Harvey will actually turn up. Not that she actually thinks he won't. Audrey would never have been able to even remotely think about dating or moving in or marry Harvey if Becky hadn't passed him on every single test she'd thrown at him. She's just … concerned about her best friend. It's Karisa, sweet little Ellie who sorts everything out. Runs out of the room and down into the actual church where her mother is waiting, sorting, herding and making sure everything is just perfect.

"Audrey, you okay?"

"Mom, oh god, I'm… I'm getting married. How do you get married? I can't get married. How did you get married?"

"Audrey, sweetheart, just breathe. Okay. Breathe." Kate takes her daughter's shoulders, fingers calm and reassuring. "It'll be fine. You love Harvey, and Harvey loves you. And you look… you look absolutely amazing. You look, so beautiful."

"Please don't make me cry. Becky will murder me."

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. But everything will be fine, okay. Everybody gets pre wedding jitters, and I bet Harvey is just the same. But Audrey, you'll be okay. You'll be absolutely fantastic. You have grown into an remarkable young woman who deserves every happiness in the world. And Harvey will give you that. He makes you so, so happy. I've seen you with him. It's just like me and your father when we were younger."

Audrey lets out a shaky breath and presses the side of her hand to her mouth. "I'm scared."

"Perfectly natural. I was absolutely terrified for like a week before I married your father. And thirty years later, look at us. We're still going strong. Married life, it's hard work, and there are bumps and bruises and sometimes it feels like there's no point, but in the end, it's so worth it. So, you're going to walk down that aisle on the arm of your father, and you're going to marry Harvey and you are going to completely rock it. You hear me? Completely rock it."

"Okay. Okay, I can… I can do it."

"Yes, yes you can." Kate's digging in her jacket pocket for something, and when she pulls it out, Audrey's heart stutters in her chest. "I want you to have this."

"Grandma's ring."

"Something old and something borrowed, right? Except I want you to keep it after. I think I've held on to it for long enough. She'd want you to have it."

Audrey takes it with a trembling hand, the chain cold against her skin and curls it into her palm. "I wish she could be here. I wish… I got my mom back. Sometimes, I thought that you weren't going to wake up, but you did, and I got you back, and I wish…"

"Hey, Audrey. It's okay. I miss my mom every day, but I've got you guys. You, and Alfie and your dad. That's all I need. So, take the ring. It's good luck."

"Thanks, mom. Just, thank you. For everything."

Kate smiles at her, and then pulls her in for a hug, both of them careful to not dislodge or ruin or crease anything. "No need to thank me. It's what I'm here for."

* * *

"She's all grown up." They're sat at the head table, both of them feeling the buzz from the champagne, and feeling pleasantly full from the four course meal that was so delicious Kate thinks that she's never going to eat anything ever again.

"She grew up a long time ago, Castle. You just refused to acknowledge it."

"She's my little girl. I'm not supposed to let her grow up. I am supposed to be protective and fight off any man who dares come within touching distance."

"Yeah, you're doing a great job with that. Besides, you've got another little girl to completely spoil rotten. And another on the way. Don't be so downhearted."

"They're grandkids, Kate. Completely different from actually having your own. Even Alfie's all grown up and basketball scholarship all the way across the other side of the country. Audrey will be expecting by the end of the year, I bet you."

Kate throws up a shoulder in a one armed shrug. "Maybe. Might be sooner than you think."

"I – Kate?" he swivels around in his chair to look at her. "Has she – is she – what did she tell you?"

"She hasn't told me anything. I don't think even she knows yet."

"But – how do you know?"

"I've had two kids, Castle. When you've been a mother, you start to recognise the signs. It's like that scene in a hundred and one Dalmatians where Nanny is talking to Anita about the fact Purdy is expecting puppies and she realises that Anita is having her own puppy." She smirks a little and tugs on his hand, tries to get him to stand. "We just know. Now, come on. I know you're old and grey, but I want at least one dance out of you."


End file.
